Unto Every One That Hath Shall be Given

Readers may want to know how things are going with the Zambian lady and me.

At some point last year, I realized that things went better for me when I did a lot of interceding, so I determined to do more of it. I interceded for people while I was driving, for example. I interceded for people in the cars and buildings around me, not just people I knew. Anyone I could think of.

“Rebecca” and I were brought together, and then we discovered it would take a long time to get together in person. We started having long prayer sessions in the morning. Now we are also having sessions later in the day. We have decided to intercede as much as we can. She likes to start video chats during the day because she misses me, and if I don’t bring intercession up, she reminds me.

I see this as an explosive development. If interceding by myself at irregular intervals opened the doors to God’s blessings, what will happen when I do it with a strong Christian, maintaining a busy and consistent schedule?

When we pray together, I thank him for making us useful. I felt frustrated that all we could do was communicate by phone, because I thought it limited what we could do. Now that we have a ministry of intercession, we are able to accomplish things in spite of the separation.

On Saturday, Rebecca told me her younger sister was in the hospital with malaria. The sister and her family live on a farm, and they hadn’t been able to charge their cell phone, so Rebecca was not able to contact them. She was very upset. She spent a fair part of the day crying. I made the mistake of trying to introduce her to someone during a video chat, and she was so embarrassed to be seen crying, she hung up and returned after getting it together.

We interceded, and I texted friends to join. On Saturday night, we heard Rebecca’s sister was recovering, and since then, things have only gotten better. We are still praying for her to recover, and also for God to help her close any doors that have opened her to attack.

We are praying for friends and relatives to become children of God. We are praying for God to form and repair marriages. We are praying for financial problems. We are praying for physical healing.

It’s wonderful to be useful.

A lot of people think they can’t serve God because they have no help, or they’re isolated, or they’re introverted, or they can’t travel, or they don’t have much money. Anyone who wants a ministry can start one instantly. Just make a point of praying for people. You don’t need a building, money, a vehicle, or anything else to get started. Just get to work.

In case anyone thinks I’m being scammed, I should add that I finally looked up Rebecca’s Instagram and Twitter accounts. I found things she wrote years ago that were completely consistent with what I know about her.

Summary: things are getting better and better. It’s a remarkable story, and it doesn’t seem to be losing steam.

You Have Already Been Found Guilty

Yesterday, I wrote a piece analyzing the moral problems with covid vaccines. Should I take an mRNA vaccine I don’t trust to leave my genes alone? Should I take an adenovirus vaccine made using a cell line derived from the 1985 murder of a helpless baby? Should I opt out and trust God alone? I tentatively concluded that receiving the murder vaccine was no worse than my unintentional and unavoidable after-the-fact participation in many other crimes. Every time I buy anything made in China, I support murder abortion as well as the killing of delivered babies, and I also support Joe Biden and the undermining of my country by hostile foreigners.

Today, I feel like writing about the flag at the dump. When I went to drop my garbage this week, I saw a flag at half mast. I don’t say “half staff” because it sounds pretentious. I wondered what the story was. My buddy Mike said it was for the victims of the Atlanta massage shootings. Biden signed a proclamation about the flag, covering several days.

The ridiculous premises are 1) there is an epidemic of ant-Asian violence connected with the virtually nonexistent phenomenon of white supremacy, and 2) the shootings were part of the epidemic.

It’s draining, seeing the constant flood of lies, rising to my very doorstep. It’s a constant reminder that the end of the age is here and America will never recover its sanity.

Of course, there is no new wave of anti-Asian violence, so there is no new wave connected to white supremacy, and white supremacy barely exists, and the man who killed the Asians in Atlanta, who was not a white supremacist, did it for other reasons. On top of that, he is atypical of people who hurt Asians.

Violence against Asians is nothing new, and it’s mainly a black problem.

Far and away, black men are the biggest perpetrators of attacks on Asians in the US. Before this country became Wokanda, we talked about this publicly. Asians have a history of moving into black neighborhoods and setting up successful businesses, and community relations have always been bad. Remember the Family Red Apple market libels? Prominent black leaders have said racist things about Asians taking over. Their slanders and victimhood speech encourage black men to harm Asians. They make it sound like self-defense.

Remember when every American knew all these things?

In the US, black men commit most of the anti-Asian violence, and that’s remarkable, because there are about 5 times as many white men, and white men are bad, bad people.

What, exactly, is the Wokandan definition of white supremacy? Fundamentally, it’s whatever anti-white racists want it to be at a given moment.

Here’s what real white supremacy is: it’s a policy of creating a government in which non-whites are excluded from all positions of power.

Here are some things which are not white supremacy: requiring people to wear business clothes, insisting employees speak English, criticizing discrimination against white people (including affirmative action), refusing to kneel on an athletic field, refusing to adequately froth at the mouth and join in the persecution of people the Wokandans have erroneously accused of white supremacy, refusing to give a black power salute while terrorists threaten you at a restaurant, voting for a Republican, owning an AR-15, expecting a nation to have borders, reading a Dr. Seuss book, reading a Mark Twain book, and putting a Confederate flag on the rear window of your pickup. Also: being white.

Why do I bother to say these things? They will convince no one, because the Wokandans and Ewokes don’t think. They are impervious to the truth. Demons rule them because they rejected and decided to persecute the Holy Spirit before they chose to persecute white people.

About half of the country is under the delusion that Donald Trump is personally responsible for the January 6 riot, simply because he encouraged people to protest. This is the same half of the country which was fine with Kamala Harris encouraging people to go out in the streets and raise hell. It’s the same half of the country that thought it was okay when Maxine Waters and Al Sharpton literally encouraged people to riot. Never mind that the damage done on January 6 is dwarfed by what leftists have done in America over the last few years.

The victimhood pimps like to use the words “weaponizing” and “radicalizing” when it comes to conservatives who are overly angry about the death of America. Let’s turn those words around. They are clearly weaponizing and radicalizing leftists. Increasingly, non-whites in the US believe they are entitled and even obligated to rain extreme cruelty on white people, Jews, and Asians. Many white leftists agree. Anyone who is more successful must be a supremacist, so cut them, shoot them, rape them, and take what they have. The more the victimhood pimps blather, the more anti-Asian crime there will be, and white people will not be the main perpetrators.

It’s remarkable how Satan gets the children of darkness to do his work.

The Holy Spirit transcends race. When he is allowed to work, people he leads come to understand that race, color, and nationality mean nothing. They learn that their beloved brothers and sisters are all types of people. We see this in Israel, where former terrorists sing in churches and intermarry with Messianic Jews. Satan makes us focus on differences in the flesh, making peace impossible.

I am in love with a magnificent Zambian lady. What is she going to think if she marries me and comes to live in America? What will she think of most black Americans? The men will think she betrayed her race. Anyone who learns she’s not a leftist will call her things like “coon” and “house negro.” They’ll say she’s a whore. She will have no mainstream black friends. If she wants to know black people, she’ll have to get together with those who are ruled and transformed by the Holy Spirit.

Conservative, Spirit-led black Americans are persecuted and rejected by people who look like them and think they’re entitled to tell them what to think and whom to associate with. In America, black people are still treated like property, except the owners aren’t white farmers. They’re politicians, other blacks, and leftists. In America, white leftists routinely rip black people for failing to obey them and submit.

Anyone who can tell you what to think is your master. Don’t fool yourself. Denial of the right to think and speak is more invasive and nullifying than denial of liberty and property.

The Atlanta murderer was not out to get Asians. If he were, he would not have shot two non-Asians, and he would not have gone to a whorehouse and killed prostitutes. In his own confession, he said he had a sex addiction he could not break. He would have shot the prostitutes he was involved with regardless of their race. It’s sickening that leftists won’t admit this.

I don’t know why I write these things, knowing leftists are too in love with hate to listen. Maybe it’s for the purpose of judgment. There are two reasons why God interacts with people: to help them, and to provide evidence for their damnation. If he offers you help and you refuse or misuse it, you seal the case for conviction and eternity in hell. You can’t say you weren’t warned. On the other hand, Ezekiel said people like me would be blameless only if we gave warnings.

It’s very sad that a Christian man was so disconnected from the Holy Spirit that he was willing to murder people who are probably damned and, in doing so, ruin his own life. He probably comes from a church that doesn’t teach people to pray abundantly in tongues, cast out demons, and beg God for correction. But his crimes are not indications that he was a white supremacist or that proper Christians are dangerous. Christianity works, but it has to be the real thing, involving adherents very deeply with the Holy Spirit. Any church that teaches pride and hard work, the prosperity gospel, anti-Semitism, leftism, black liberation theology, prayer to saints, or cessationism is powerless and under Satan’s control. No person who isn’t transformed by the Holy Spirit is a yardstick by which Christianity can be judged. Such people are nominal Christians only, as Rebecca calls them.

I can’t vouch for nominal Christians. Such people perpetrated the Spanish Inquisition, and many cooperated with Nazis. I wish I could say none are dangerous, but anyone who is not connected well to the Holy Spirit can be manipulated by Satan. Just like a leftist rioter or a person like Al Sharpton who encourages them.

All up in my Business

This is amazing. Someone has been surreptitiously filming me and my long-distance Zambian girlfriend.

FYI, we have decided my new pet name is The Problem of Whiteness.

Twenty Days

Things continue to get better and better between me and “Rebecca” the Zambian cow-redeemed woman of God.

Obviously, no one is really redeemed by cows, but if you want a Zambian wife, you have to pay the bovine ransom.

We keep praying together for long periods every morning. We had to postpone it one day because of other obligations, but other than that, we are consistent.

I know I will offend people by saying this, but offending is what I do, so I will say it: interacting with this lady has shown me how harmful and useless the modern American woman is. I have never known anyone like Rebecca well. The contrast between her and other women I’ve evaluated as marriage material is so great, it’s like comparing a freshly made Happy Meal to a bag of moldy, maggot-infested scraps in a McDonald’s dumpster. Having a typical, modern American woman–including Christian women–seems so dangerous and unsatisfying to me now, I can’t imagine myself settling for one. Being alone is better, and it’s not just a little bit better. It’s worlds better.

Paul said those who married would have trouble in the flesh, and boy, was he right. Fortunately, what he said was not a universal law. Just an observation based on his knowledge of the married people he knew. Good marriages have always existed, and only God puts them together.

Modern women are very domineering. Let’s start with that. For over half a century, TV has taught them men need to be corrected, and that women are supposed to function as patient yet stern mothers to their husbands. It actually starts with boyfriends. Modern fornication has put women in a position of power they were never supposed to have. They set up hoops, and men who want sex (and to avoid marriage) jump through them.

The belief that women need to correct men is a Satanic notion, and it didn’t start recently, even though the epidemic exploded in America only during the last century. You can see the problem in the Catholic Church. Mary, a dead woman in heaven who can’t hear your prayers, is the real god of Catholics. They’re told not to bother the father, even though Jesus specifically instructed us to pray directly to him. They pray to their idol. In their art, Mary is a big, strong woman, and what is Jesus? A fat, weak baby. Jesus created Mary, not to mention all the galaxies, yet Catholics routinely depict him as a baby in a diaper, or as a defeated and mysteriously emaciated twig-armed figure still nailed to a cross.

Jesus was a man, and he was a carpenter. He was physically strong.

The ancients worshiped feminine deities. The ancient Jews worshiped Astarte (now known as Mary). Archaeologists have unearthed synagogues containing two altars: a big one for Yahweh and a little one for “the queen of heaven.”

Satan hates masculinity, which is why countless American men and boys are now having themselves shot full of androgen blockers and female hormones. It’s why they’re having their penises amputated. Yahweh is masculine, not feminine. So is Jesus. So is the Holy Spirit. Feminist Christians hate to hear this, but it’s true. The male sows seed, and it grows in the female. All three manifestations of God are sowers, not receivers. Man was created in the image of a masculine God, and Satan can’t emasculate God, so he goes after men, who resemble God.

Rebecca has not tried to scold me or mother me even once. I have to ask modern women: can you even imagine how that feels for me? It’s what you’re competing with. Having known Rebecca, why would I ever even finish an introductory online chat with the likes of you?

You might as well be a mental patient typing from a ward. Look how you handicap yourselves. It’s like going to a grocery store and getting a choice between a brand-new cart and one with four wheels that spin and drag. I wasn’t born to be a tow truck, fighting resistance every minute I’m with a woman.

I already know what a modern woman will say, because I’ve heard it perhaps ten thousand times: “You just want someone who will feed your ego and tell you what you want to hear. You don’t want healthy debate with a person you respect.”

1. I don’t want to be told I’m wonderful or that I’m right all the time. I want someone who will come back at me with confirmation of what God has already told me. I want someone who has already heard the same things.

2. Debate has never been healthy. “Healthy debate” is an oxymoron. There are no debates in heaven, because everyone believes exactly the same things. Jesus said he was the truth, not the argument. I hear from the Holy Spirit every day. The only women who could be anything but toxic to me are in the same situation. I don’t want to share revelation with a woman and then hear that I should be listening to Father Corapi or Sister Angelica or Joel Osteen or any of the other dangerous, conceited ignoramuses I already know are wrong. I want to find out the Holy Spirit is telling her the same thing.

3. Conceit will not make me respect you.

4. I want someone who will join me in praying God will correct and inform both of us. No one who wants a sycophant would do that.

This brings me to the second point: modern women are accusers. “You have male fragility.” “You have white privilege.” “You have the madonna/whore complex.” “You’re afraid of strong women.”

The word “devil” means “accuser.” Look it up. What possible reason could I have for inviting an accuser to share my life? These days, women are full of anti-male accusations that came from Satan himself. The Bible says Satan accuses us before the father all day. I don’t need that manure piped into my home and my head. May God pump it back into the heads of all those who have directed it at me.

Third point: modern women are incapable of learning because they have become convinced they were born perfect. Pacifism is good; weapons and self-defense are bad. Vegetarianism is good; hunting and eating meat are bad. Masculinity itself, a defining characteristic of Jesus Christ, is “toxic”; femininity is good and more advanced. Women are highly evolved; men, who built the world, are like chimpanzees who need to be restrained.

The first sinner was a woman. The first drug user was a woman who ate a fruit that altered her consciousness because she wanted to be better than a man. The first emasculator and rebel against male authority was a woman. The first idolater was a woman. What was Adam cursed for? Listening to the voice of his wife.

Traditionally, women have been leaders in idolatry, and they still are. The Mormon cult endorsed polygamy because women flocked to it and men resisted. Women are the leading proponents of witchcraft. Women are the biggest practitioners of the demonic religion of yoga. Women push socialism, which has a history of hatred of God. Women have done tremendous evil, yet somehow, modern women believe they’re right about everything.

Rebecca does not accuse me. When she showed up in my life, she already believed what I believe. God put it in her. I didn’t have to. She listens to what I say, and she repeats it to me amplified with scriptures she already knows.

Why would I trade this for a neurotic feminist who thinks everything I say is “mansplaining” and reacts to it by cutting herself?

Fourth point: modern women who are Christians worship pastors instead of listening to the revelation God gives their husbands. If I point out, rightly, that Kenneth Copeland is a con artist who destroys people’s wealth and keeps them away from God, I shouldn’t have to listen to a woman who tells me I’m going to hell for touching God’s anointed. If you chose me, you should know I hear from God, and you should hear from him, too. If you don’t think I can be trusted, marry someone else and spare me the torment of being with you.

Should I complain to God because I’ve been so single for so long, or should I thank him profusely because you weren’t with me?

Pointing a TV camera at a gutless, grinning moron or a liar doesn’t turn him into God’s anointed. God anoints people with impartations, not cameras. The most damaging preachers on earth are on TV with huge audiences.

The Bible clearly says, in many places, that a woman should submit to her husband. Nowhere does it say the converse. Some people quote a passage that says Christians should submit to each other, but it’s not in reference to marriage. If it were, it could contradict the rest of the Bible. It directly follows a passage saying women should submit to their husbands.

It’s unfortunate that we so often use the word “submissive” to describe a good wife, because Americans hate this word and associate it with things like abuse and sexual perversion. Maybe people will understand better if I use the word “cooperative.” It’s wonderful to have a woman who is cooperative.

Modern women need to understand something: no man has to marry them. We are free to look elsewhere, and we are free to remain single. You can be mad at us, but you have no power over us. The competition is alluring and nourishing. You are repulsive and draining. If you want a man who has known a proper woman, you will have to get it together, because what you’re offering is repellent to him.

Why do you think men marry so late? They get to know you, and maybe they start fornicating with you and even play house with you, but something inside them tells them there has to be something better out there. That’s why your boyfriend left you when you were 41 and childless. It’s why you think about buying sperm.

I am not a controlling person, and I have the right to reject other people who would control me. If I choose to reject you in favor of someone vastly better in every way, there is nothing you can do about it. Thank God for that.

On top of all of Rebecca’s godliness and her correct attitude, she’s also young and beautiful. There must be others like her out there, ladies. Consider your competition and do the smart thing. Even though I mention Rebecca’s beauty, you should know that your looks aren’t the main thing keeping you single. Fix your attitude, and you will improve your results regardless of your appearance. Men are thirsting for correct women. It’s wonderful that Rebecca is so pretty, but her personality is the reason I didn’t get rid of her on the first day.

Am I saying African women are generally better? No. I don’t have any idea whether that’s true. I’m not writing about African women. I’m talking about Spirit-led women who love and enjoy their proper role. Unfortunately, there aren’t many in America. I can only think of one woman I’ve known here who seemed to fit the description. One!

Yesterday I prayed in tongues for an hour and a half in the afternoon, and I received two scriptures. I sent them to Rebecca.

Here is what Abraham said to Eliezer:

“[A]nd I will make you swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and the God of the earth, that you will not take a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I dwell; but you shall go to my country and to my family, and take a wife for my son Isaac.”

Here is what Jesus said to someone who tried to get him to leave his followers to talk to his mother and biological half-siblings:

But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.

America is not my primary country. My primary country is the nation and family of God. The Lord wanted me to have a wife who came from our family, and it looks like he had to go to Africa and another race to find her.

Until this month, I had no idea what a woman was supposed to be like. I had some intellectual beliefs based on the Bible, but I had almost no personal exposure to women who had it together. If you think I was picky before this month, you wouldn’t believe how picky I am now. If things didn’t work out between me and Rebecca, I would become a rapid-fire rejection gun. I wouldn’t struggle for days to make the wrong woman work. I would drop her in the first 10 minutes and be glad I got away.

I was a fool when I was young, and I delayed God’s help for many years. I’m very grateful to him for removing the curses. If you’re young, read what I’m writing. You need God to bring you a wife he chose, and if your fiancee makes you feel trapped, she didn’t come from God. Things will get exponentially worse if you marry her.

Ladies, I suggest you ramp up your game. What Rebecca is doing works.

If you want to comment and say I offended you, all I can say is that you wasted a great opportunity to make your dreams come true. Correction is what you make of it.

Courtship not Slowing Down

Someone asked for an update on my love life (which now exists) in a comment. Here I am to fill the need.

I just got off video chat with the Zambian lady. I will call her Rebecca in order to avoid putting her first name on the web. We now have a ministry of intercession, so we interceded for friends and family. Update: I interrupted writing this paragraph to take a call from one of the people we interceded for. The call from Rebecca was over. My buddy Mike is here, so we interceded and prayed in agreement with him.

Lot of intercession going on.

Rebecca and I still talk all the time. I am not sure why any woman would prefer seeing me on video to hearing my voice, but video is what we do. We have not gotten tired of each other. We are not having arguments. We continue to have long prayer sessions in the morning. We are working on getting together.

I’m not sure what we could learn about each other in person that would be bad enough to convince us we were wrong about each other when communicating remotely. It just seems like it would be imprudent to go straight from video chat to engagement and marriage.

We are getting revelations that intertwine and support each other. A lot of it seems to be about the principle of rapture. The rapture isn’t just an event; the event is the end of a process in which people get closer to God. It’s starting to look like God has higher ground on his mind. It appears he wants us together so we will be stronger in this hostile world, and it also appears he wants to move Rebecca out of Zambia because it’s a hotbed of witchcraft. The things that are coming to us suggest I live on higher ground, so she should come here and get some relief.

She had a dream in which God lifted her up to the ceiling of the sky. It was made of something that was like water, but it was alive, and it seemed golden. It was just above her, and she could see through it. She felt God was holding her up and would not let her fall. That seems to be a picture of life just before the rapture. The chosen would still be in this world, but spiritually, they would be just below the floor of heaven, ready to be taken up. People who say they’ve seen heaven claim the streets are made of transparent gold.

God has given me revelations which are different but consistent with hers.

That’s about all I can tell you. My passport is in the works, and we are trying to get God to guide us as to where and when we should meet. She didn’t turn out to be a scammer, a gold digger, or an immigration hustler. I didn’t turn out to be a predator obsessed with black women, an adulterer, or a fraud.

It’s still hard for me to believe so much has happened, especially when it happened so quickly. It’s astounding when God makes big things happen in a hurry.

Dubai??

Today, having finished exploring the topic of whether I would have to use cattle to pay for my African bride, I did more travel research and tentatively concluded we would have to have our first date in Dubai.

As I told a friend earlier, I don’t know why I haven’t been offered a reality show.

Oh, wait. There is one reason. I believe in God and traditional morals. I don’t think the History Channel’s guilty, virtue-displaying white executives would want to give a show to a guy who says Sports Illustrated is wrong for trying to make normal (i.e. heterosexual) men lust after other men in women’s swimsuits.

I thought we could meet in Israel, but Israel is out of the office at the moment. I thought Sweden would work, because the Swedes didn’t lose their grip on reality when covid hit, but I am now seeing signs that Sweden is closed, too. The various websites contradict each other.

Dubai is not my idea of a great tourist destination. My understanding is that there are hot deserts there, rimmed by artificial land created via dredging, and that all you get to see there are skyscrapers, restaurants, and beaches. And my Zambian lady can’t swim.

It occurred to me today that it’s like Vegas without casinos.

Still, it should be interesting and very comfortable, and it’s not expensive. The food and hotels are supposed to be very good. She says KFC is much better in Dubai than Zambia. Zambians go there and then hit social media to talk about how good KFC is.

She says I can go to Zambia. They have a 14-day quarantine, but she says it’s not enforced. The reason? Zambia.

I still can’t believe Sports Illustrated is doing that. They’re trying to convince millions of men (actually, with current circulation figures, hundreds) that homosexuality is normal because some of them become aroused by photographs of men who have been surgically altered and Photoshopped to look like women. Sorry, leftists. It does not work that way. If a man is only attracted to other men when they look nearly exactly like women, he’s not a homosexual, and that becomes obvious when he finds out the truth and loses his lunch.

If you want to prove it’s normal for men to lust after other men in bathing suits, put Lebron James in the swimsuit issue. See how that goes.

The guys who see no problem with drag models, and who lecture the rest of us, are simply men who don’t realize they’re gay. If you know your partner is a man, and you can see the signs, and you’re fine with it, you’re a homosexual. Don’t tell the rest of us what we want.

My passport application is filed. No idea how long that will take. I have read that I can have Washington speed it up once I have tickets.

My lady has bar exams coming up, and she needs to buckle down in May in order to do well. That means if we miss an April launch window, we’re in trouble. If God wants us to get together, it will happen. I hope he does, because video chat is a very poor substitute for meeting in person.

I am not optimistic about the world’s immediate future, so I wonder if we should be waiting around. If travel becomes impossible after our date, how will we seal the deal? I think the apocalypse is starting, and if it is, then we will see more plagues, including plagues of war and lack, not just disease. Travel could become a real problem.

It’s not my job to fight the battles directly, though, so I won’t worry. I will maintain a good prayer life and expect help from above.

We still pray together every day, for a long time. We’re doing intercession, not just praying for ourselves. A friend of mine thinks spirits are infecting his house, so we are fighting for him. I’m sure he’s right. It’s tremendous, having a powerful partner to work with.

I made Miss Zambia’s picture my phone’s wallpaper. It keeps startling me. I’m used to seeing a photo of a horse, but now it’s an unusually beautiful woman, and I actually know her. I didn’t download a picture of Tyra Banks. Who would not look quite as good, to be honest.

I don’t know how things could get any stranger, but 2020 taught me not to rule anything out.

Israel Lets me Down in my Time of Need

Today (March 15) I went to get a duplicate driver’s license. I have to have a passport if I’m going to travel to Israel to meet the Zambian sweet potato, and I need a photocopy of my driver’s license and old passport to get a new passport.

On Friday, I got my license out and put it in my pocket by itself. I wanted to make sure I knew exactly where it was when I started working on the passport. I spent quite a while trying to scan my old passport. I had software problems. I gave up and made a copy without scanning it into the PC. Then I looked for the license, and it had vanished.

It’s still gone. The thing that drives me crazy is knowing it’s in this house and I can’t find it.

They gave me ticket number 52 when I got to the tax collector’s office. I wasn’t paying attention, so I thought it said 62. I got up when they called that number, a good long time after I had arrived. The lady who actually had 62 was not happy with me. Fortunately they let me get back in line ahead of number 63.

Today we passed a major milestone. We didn’t spend an irresponsibly long time video chatting. Finally. I was afraid we would do it every day until the world fell apart around us.

I knew there had to come a time when we would be able to bear time apart. Most couples get really, really good at it. Maybe now we’ll be able to get a few things done.

It has been hard to figure out what to do. Things developed so quickly. Should I ship her here right away so we could get to know each other face-to-face and make sure where we want to go forward? Good idea, but it takes time to get a visa. Should we meet in Israel for the same purpose? Also a good idea, but my passport will take time to arrive.

It all boils down to time. Which of these things can we do fastest? She will be busy in May, so we need to try to get together in April.

I think I could get a passport by the first week of April, based on what I’ve read. I think I should try to do that. I’ll need evidence of plans to travel. I may have to buy a ticket for myself. If I do, what happens if the State Department doesn’t come through in time? Can I get a refund? Can I get refunds for her airfare and travel expenses? I don’t know. I have to find out.

What about coronavirus? Will I have to be tested in order to travel? What if I fail? Do I have to eat my ticket, stay home, and text her about her great Israel trip?

I should Google.

Okay, Googling over.

It’s not a pretty picture. Israel is closed. Even the Messiah can’t get a visa. You have to qualify to enter under a short list of exceptions, and neither of us will make the cut.

Europe is not good. I looked at Greece, as an example. Closed.

What if I go to Zambia? No problem, except they’ll make me stay in quarantine for 14 days. Forget that.

Mexico will work, as will South Africa. Sweden might work. South Africa requires a 35-hour trip for me. Neither she nor I would need a visa.

Okay, here’s the obvious question: what are we supposed to do with our time in South Africa? We are Christians, so the answer you’re thinking of is not an option. I guess we could go around looking at lions and elephants. Not that exciting for an African girl.

What do tourists do in Sweden? I think they look at fjords and go home. Nothing ever happened in Sweden. The Swedish Empire never ruled half the world. No saviors were born there. America never had a revolution and broke off from Sweden. There are no Swedish pyramids. They have no alps. What do people do?

Greece is very interesting. Actually, it’s probably a lot more interesting to me than to anyone who grew up in Africa. Anyway, it’s closed. Like Wally World in Family Vacation. The muse out front should have told you.

I didn’t know any of these obstacles existed, but then I don’t do a lot of international travel.

What kind of lives can we have, if this craziness continues? Would we find ourselves sitting around the house together until Jesus came? Of course, a lot of other people have been living that way for over a year, so I suppose it wouldn’t be an unusual punishment serious enough to make two people avoid marriage. I suppose we sit around the house most of the time now, except we’re not together.

This would only be the first phase of our international moves. Even if we got together and became convinced we should keep going forward, we would still have to go through this again for the marriage. What will the travel picture be like a few months from now? What if coronavirus variants have run amok by then, essentially ending international travel? Would it still be possible to get a fiancee visa?

Is it too late for us? Is anyone else out there still getting married?

Who cares? Worrying is pointless, so I won’t do it. If God wants us together, nothing can stop us.

World’s Least Probable Romance Still Going Strong

I guess I should blog a little more about my impending purchase, and by that I mean my Zambian wife.

No, I have not proposed. But we are moving forward fast, and we are talking about things that have to be done if we keep it up.

It now appears nearly certain that I will have to buy her. If you think you’ve had weird days in your life, wait till you blog about buying a person. It’s hard to top.

She does not want to pay her relatives. She feels they have not been as gracious as they should in the past. She also wants to do the right thing, however, and she is concerned that refusing to pay may be an omission, rooted in bittnerness, which is not God’s will. She is concerned about the scandal.

After praying, we are both inclined to think we should just pay them off.

The good news is that the fee should be lower than her airfare to the US.

In order to avoid creating a scandal in Zambia, we may have to create one here. Like I care.

According to custom, her family is supposed to take part of the cow windfall and put it toward a month of sex and submission lessons for her. I don’t really know what to say about that. It wasn’t my idea. Before the relationship began, I would have been happy to be able to say, “My wife isn’t a giant pain in the butt every single day.” That would have been sufficient. I certainly didn’t expect a prospective bride to get professional wife lessons.

I do not plan to take husband lessons. I have been enduring raging, continuous, tone-deaf, sexist, feminist abuse and mind control for roughly half a century, so I think anything about me that needs to be corrected has already been addressed. It would be more appropriate to give me anti-feminist deprogramming lessons. The garbage they teach has ruined relations between the sexes. Nearly everything they tell us about women is a lie. No wonder we don’t know how to handle them.

I am told Americans like to butt into African culture and try to repair it. Our government uses aid dollars as pry bars to force change, and Africans resent it. It may well be that Obama and/or Clinton tried to turn Africa into a feminist utopia. I don’t know, because I don’t pay attention to stories about insane, intrusive liberal foreign policy. In any case, a Zambian marriage means paying for a wife and giving her sex lessons, irrespective of our government’s wishes.

I have written a letter inviting her to the US. This is needed so our State Department will grant her a visa. If her team approves it, I will have to send it to her place of work via DHS. The mail in Zambia doesn’t work. Big surprise there.

In these letters, you can’t say you are thinking about marriage, because the government will think your visitor will remain in the US. On the other hand, when you want a visa after you’re engaged, you get special treatment, even though it’s obvious the person will remain here. The special document is called a “fiancee visa.”

Tell me how that makes sense. Being in love is a problem, but being engaged is a big help.

We keep praying together every morning, as if it’s a routine thing we have been doing all our lives. We just fell into it, instantly. There is no pushing or prodding. I wake up and send her a text, and we’re off. It’s the most important thing we do.

When we video chat, we both say the same thing: it’s as if we’ve been doing it for years. I feel like I’m continuing something I started with her decades ago.

We’ve found some things we disagree on. She doesn’t like used furniture. I don’t want her to cut her hair. These are the major chasms that obstruct our romance. Other than that, our relationship is a continuous series of strong agreements.

Don’t get the idea she’s just agreeing after I tell her things. Women are famous for pretending to be what you want, only until the ring goes on. Then you’re caught, like an animal in a trap, and in order to get free, you have to chew off your house and retirement account. She talks a lot more than I do, and very often, I’m the one to interrupt to say how strongly I agree.

To sum things off, I feel like I stepped onto a bullet train that was already in motion. No red flags. No games. No walking on eggs. No effort. This is the kind of relationship I always dreamed of, but I didn’t think it could really happen in modern America. Modern American romance is sleazy, even when people think it’s classy. Thinking it’s classy is the saddest part.

I’m glad I’m not talking to a yoga-loving, Biden-voting, walking tattoo gallery who asks her slutty, unfulfilled, man-hating girlfriends how to play me. I said “slutty.” Slutty, slutty, slutty. It’s a good word. We don’t use it enough. America is full of women who are crying out for someone to have a spine and call them out on their errors.

I’m also glad I’m not interviewing with someone who wants to be my new mom so she can tell me what to eat, set my bedtime, “correct” my opinions, and wash my mouth out with gluten-free soap when I say things like “snowflake” or “semiauto.” My mom is dead. I loved her. I will not abide a new one.

It appears I have someone I can pour love into without being penalized. This is what I have always wanted. Maybe America is just not the place to look for wives. Maybe there are countries which produce good husbands, and countries which produce good wives, and they need to be connnected.

I have a lot to be grateful for. More than I ever imagined possible.

If things work out, it will be the most impressive proof of God’s greatness since the parting of the Red Sea. If not, it will simply confirm that I make mistakes.

Never Tell me I’m not the Romantic Type

Time for the latest news about my online matchmaking saga.

As always, I assume people will be waiting to hear that the rose-colored glasses have come off, I have realized Ms. Zambia was only after my money and a trip to America, and I have given her her walking papers.

Get ready to be disappointed. God is very good.

We now have a pattern. Every day, when my prayers start, I text her. She’s already up when I wake because of the time difference. I think it’s July in Zambia. There is nothing like having a strong Christian woman to pray with. A person who has no prayer partner is like a walled city with gaps in the walls. I have needed this for a very long time.

We don’t just pray. We talk about supernatural events. Monday, and Tuesday, I saw things while I was praying. I don’t mean I saw them as though they were real. They popped into my mind. Sometimes things like that come from God. Because I had her, I was able to describe them to her and see if God told her anything about them. We also prayed God would tell me about a vision he gave her last month.

Yesterday, after prayer, I started speaking in tongues and interpreting, and I ran the results by her as I went. We went about two hours.

She came back very quickly with scriptures supporting the words that came to me. Sometimes, they were the same scriptures I had thought of. Other times, she turned my attention to scriptures that hadn’t come to mind. I could not be more impressed.

Most Christians don’t know or understand much. They think Christianity means going to church so God won’t send you to hell, or being nice so God won’t send you to hell, or being forgiven once a week so you can start sinning again as soon as you hit the parking lot. They’re not really Christians. They worship niceness. Actual Christians who go online looking for love hate it when someone’s description says, “Spiritual, but not religious.” It’s a proclamation of willful ignorance.

I want someone who isn’t ignorant. They are exceptions. I see why Proverbs says the price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies. Even if it’s measured in Zambian sirloin.

She likes the way the Bible characterizes a wife as a helper. She says “helper” doesn’t mean “helpless.” That’s exactly right. If a woman isn’t powerful, she can’t be a helper. You have to be strong in order to help anyone.

America is full of women who like calling themselves strong in spite of their total lack of supernatural strength. The weakest women call themselves strong.

Being obnoxious and pushy and having a chip on your shoulder for men are not strength. It poisons the woman and rots the life of any man she latches onto.

I ransacked the first floor of my house yesterday, looking for my passport. No luck. Today while we talked, I asked her to pray about it. Then she had to attend a Zoom class. I asked God to help me find the passport. I walked over to a table with a lot of papers on it, moved a couple of things, picked up an envelope, reached inside it, and took the passport out.

If you don’t have your expired passport, it takes forever to get a new one. They assume you sold your old one to terrorists or to Mexican criminals who haven’t learned Biden will let anyone cross the border. Because I have the old one, I can make a plane reservation today and leave in about two weeks.

The plan is to meet in a third country to see how the relationship holds up.

As for marriage itself, there is a very serious possibility I will end up buying her for several cows. I discussed this here already. She doesn’t want me to do it, but she has concerns about making a stink in Zambia, and she doesn’t want problems with unforgiveness toward her dad’s family.

I have learned a lot about Zambia. Over there, when women want to put each other down, they brag about how submissive they are. They compete to see who is the best wife.

I am not making this up.

When a woman becomes engaged, someone pays a female trainer to consult with her and teach her how to be good in bed.

I don’t know why no one has made a movie about this. The comedy potential is endless.

I love how this is working out. I can’t wait for the day when leftists finally put me on trial for all my imaginary crimes. My list of confessions will be amazing.

1. “I bought my YOUNGER FOREIGN BLACK wife, who is very beautiful, with several cattle, and I framed the receipt.”

2. “I routinely call her ‘my little post-colonial cocoa bean,'” and she actually likes it.

3. “When she texts, she calls me her king.”

4. “She sent me a monkey emoji, and I told her it was my favorite picture of her.”

Heads will detonate like grenades.

My buddy Mike has a son who married a black girl who has gone way off into the BLM bush. I keep begging Mike to tell him what’s happening. I want him to film it so I can watch.

I am trying to find out what Zambian cattle weigh. It looks like American calves run about 600 pounds when they sell. Assuming the same thing is true in Africa, the latest price for a pound of Zambian cow on the hoof puts the cost at $360. That means one wife should come in at around $3600, which seems pretty high to me. I got a really nice used tool grinder for less than half of that.

It occurs to me that my remarks could result in American men stampeding to woo Zambian girls for all the wrong reasons. It sounds like marrying a Zambian is a pretty sweet deal.

If you’re a single American woman, perhaps it will be helpful to see what the competition is up to.

I just sent the following email:

It looks like cattle here in the US run about 600 pounds (272 KG) at sale, and the Zambian price is about $.60 per pound, so I am thinking a cow must run about $360. This would put you in the $3600 range, making you expensive yet considerably cheaper than a nice riding lawnmower.

Getting my passport renewed can take as little as two weeks, but in order to do it that fast, I have to have airline tickets. I am looking into Israel package deals. You might want to check on the cost of flights to the US, as well as the time required to get a visa, but Israel sounds very good to me.

She responded: “Glad to know I’m cheaper than your lawnmower.”

My reply: “Yes. Let’s not be extravagant.”

That’s all I have for now. I have to coordinate with my tiny subequatorial turnip. Prayers for guidance appreciated.

My Horse, my Ox, my Ass, my Anything

Dating and engagements are full of ups and downs, especially when you’re dealing with a person from a foreign country. Today I was surprised to learn that if I want to bring a Zambian lady home, I will be expected to buy her.

Apparently, her family will expect a ransom of somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 cows. Her sister went for 7, but her brother in law had good negotiators, and her sister didn’t have a college degree, so she was a budget bride.

I told her to tell them my opening offer was three chickens. I said that when I haggled, I believed in starting low.

I said to make sure she told them I was talking top of the line chickens. Nobody wants to sound cheap.

I told her to remind them she eats a lot and is no good for pulling a plow.

Art of the deal, baby. Four years of Trump taught me some things.

The cattle would go to her dad’s relatives because she’s an orphan with no older brother. She feels they would be getting something for nothing.

I asked her what men were worth She said, “Nothing. Men are useless.”

I find the idea of buying her very appealing, even if I don’t really have to do it. I just want to have a framed receipt for buying a wife. I want to be able to tell American women I bought her. I want to watch their heads detonate.

I think it would be fun to do an act for strangers, where I give her commands like a dog. “Woman! COME!” “Yes, master.” ” Now HEEL.” “Yes, exalted one.”

It would be a riot during the 15 or so seconds of life I would have before an American woman murdered me. The Proud Boys would build a statue of me.

Now that I know how hard it is to get into the United States unless you’re a Mexican criminal, I have been looking into ways for us to get together. I could try to bring her here for visit, but we’re not sure if it will work. My buddy Mike had suggested another option: a third country that doesn’t care who goes in or out. Specific destination: Cancun.

Ms. Zambia had another idea: Israel. The perfect tourist destination for Christians, and a place I have longed to revisit since my kibbutz days. I thought the suggestion was brilliant. Israel is relatively close to Zambia, and they need tourists.

Mike is still pushing Cancun. It’s where he goes for dental work. He says you can live in a top hotel there for $200 per week. I tried to explain that frugality was not the point. We found out what it costs to fly from Zambia to Cancun, and that chilled the discussion. It is not cheap.

What if I just scrapped the whole idea and started dating a violent Mexican drug queen? Whenever she wanted to see me, she could just walk into El Paso, and I could pick her up.

I didn’t realize how hard it was to get foreigners permission to visit America. I had told her I planned to have her shipped in a crate. I said it would be a very nice crate with snacks. Looks like it’s not that simple. She has to be interviewed, vetted, waterboarded, and so on. Illegals have it easy.

How much weirder can my life get? Whatever the answer is, I say bring it on. This is so much better than anything anyone I know is doing. Anyone who thinks God doesn’t have a sense of humor hasn’t been paying attention.

Can You Please me Even More Obvious?

In case you’re wondering if all the talk of the Antichrist and the war on Christianity is just conspiracy babble, I have news for you. I sent an email today, and I learned some things.

Yahoo Mail has no Jesus emoji. It has no cross emoji. It has no ichthys emoji.

It does have the star of David and the Muslim crescent.

When you type in “Christ,” it gives you two Christmas trees, a present, a snowman, and Santa Claus.

Nice try, tech kiddies, but you will never get rid of Christianity or the living God who created you. You are here for an instant, and then you’re forgotten. Jesus will endure forever.

Sitrep

I met a foreign lady online two days ago, things went incredibly well, I we spent hours talking to each other, and I became convinced she cared about me. Now it must be time for me to say I was living in a fool’s paradise and that I just found out she was only after my money.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Just kidding. Things are going great.

Today I heard from her early on, and after we talked a bit, I told her I needed to stop because I was talking to her when I was supposed to be praying. She understood completely and told me to go ahead.

I call that a test passed.

I got into my morning prayers, and eventually it occurred to me that I had someone available to agree with me. I said, “Let’s see you act like a wife.” I started sending things for her to agree with, as they came up.

She added a couple of things, too.

For the first time in ages, I had someone else on my team during prayers. This is the primary reason I started looking at women online. Every Christian slips. Every Christian misses things. You need someone who will stop the arrows you fail to deflect.

Ecclesiastes:

Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.

For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.

Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?

And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

We prayed for ourselves. We prayed for our friends. We prayed for the body of Christ. It was beautiful. I felt like I was bathing in a vat of love.

Ungodly couples get together and do what married people do. So are we, but instead of fornicating, we’re doing what godly married people do: teaming up in our service to God.

This is a lady God used to make a woman in a wheelchair get up and walk. She has cast out demons. She has been visited by Jesus. If we pray together, I won’t have to drag her like dead weight. She’ll get things done.

I was mentoring my young friend Travis until he got shot and died last year. He was the person I prayed with. He was the only person I could talk to about the deep things of God. I have prayed for God to send someone else. I prayed for God to send more than one person, because he repays manifold when there is a theft. I told him if he didn’t want to send me a wife, even a friend would be fine.

He came through.

Praying with a woman who is aligned with God and you is better than sex. The harmony of heaven becomes evident while you do it, and it surrounds you. It reminds you there is a better place where people are always united.

I feel like I’m hearing the voices of other people in my head. “You’re seeing what you want to see.” “You’re not doing anything to protect yourself.” “She doesn’t really want you.” “You’re just like all the other guys who try to buy wives.”

I have heard other people’s voices before, though. “Prayer in tongues is gibberish.” “Miracles don’t happen unless they come from the devil.” “Life isn’t supposed to be easy for Christians.” “You’ll die broke if you criticize TV preachers.”

The devil’s kids, many of whom are Christians, live in their own reality, which is bleak, and I live in mine, which is full of blessings. The word says the promises of God are “yes” and “amen.” Why should I listen to people who live in a different universe?

“I can’t get healed, so God doesn’t heal people any more.” “I can’t speak in tongues, so speaking in tongues isn’t for everyone.” “No one in my denomination prophesies, so prophecy is dead.” Christianity is full of dogs in mangers.

Imagine a conception taking place. One sperm cell always makes it, and the rest die. What would they say if they could talk to the one that wins? “Forget it, man. I tried, and it’s impossible. You think you’re going to make it? Who are you to talk that way? What an ego!”

It sounds like what they said to Jesus when he told people who he was.

People who think relationships like this one are impossible are generally people to whom many of God’s blessings seem impossible. Why would I listen to them?

As for pace, I thought about some people yesterday. Isaac and Rebecca. Esther and Ahasuerus. Ruth and Boaz. David and Abigail. They didn’t have lengthy courtships, because they were put in couples by God.

A website which may or may not be right says the average American couple dates (i.e. fornicates) for 3.3 years before getting married. About 40% of American marriages end in divorce. Looks like long test drives don’t really work.

Multi-year premarital relationships are also very bad for women. If you have a few typical boyfriends before you marry, you will be in your thirties when you tie the knot. Your fertility will be greatly reduced. Look it up. It’s worse if you put things off for your career. Many women start relationships when they’re up around 30, and these relationships often last 10 or more years before the men leave. I know a lady it happened to. She thought a friend of mine was going to marry her. She got her walking papers at the age of 38. One day, I said, “Where’s Helen?” He said, “I MADE her leave.”

Helen does not read my blog, so it’s okay if I say she was not an attractive lady, and her personality was not particularly appealing. My friend, on the other hand, was a radiologist who was considerably younger than she was. When it came to dating, he was like a big juicy pork chop in a dog pound. Losing Helen was a boost to his prospects, but it probably put an end to hers. It was an asymmetrical situation, and Helen probably didn’t think about that.

Maybe I should just give in and let things blossom. Many long, happy marriages start well. A flying start shouldn’t be considered a sign of trouble.

I have just about all of my friends praying God will guide us. I don’t ask for prayer that God will guide us. Just that he will guide us to the right people.

Hope the good news continues to flow.

Genesis 3:17

We all know how it goes when you meet someone you think may be your soulmate. On the first day, everything falls into place perfectly. You find out you have a ton in common. You agree about everything.

The second time you’re together, things still go really well, but you start to notice little areas you will need to work around.

The third time, more areas of disagreement open up, but you still think things can work. So you have sex. If you’re a woman, you have to have sex by the third encounter because men insist on test drives, and if you’re a man, if you don’t to it, she’ll tell everyone you’re gay.

Then you have sex for three more years, making sure the woman is on the pill and having abortions if needed. Then you get married because no one better has shown up.

It’s universal, right?

Not really.

I spent a huge portion of today communicating with the Zambian lady who pounced on me on a matchmaking site. Okay, maybe that’s not quite what she did, but she did fire the first shot. We can’t seem to find anything to disagree about. I think we may already have turned into one of those insufferable couples who spend way too much time together and always side with each other against their friends.

She blasted me out of bed with a video call at 9 a.m. I had awakened a lot earlier, but I fell asleep during my prayers. I had a dream. In the dream, I was in a hotel room with two cousins. One had a couple of puppies. I was playing with one. It was a chubby, friendly dog with spots like a fawn. I asked my cousin what kind of dog it was. He said, “It’s a summole. I said, “Summole?” He said, “Summole mutt.”

I thought that was a pretty good joke for a dream character to make up.

I insisted on showering and taming my hair, and then our day of relentless courtship began.

The first session took place with me in the gun room, in an office chair. Compared to yesterday, I got smart. I mounted my phone on a tripod so I wouldn’t have to hold it.

There was a break and then a second session. I grabbed a battery pack I bought for a night vision scope, and I hooked it up to my phone and Bluetooth earpiece. This assured the phone and earpiece had enough juice for the third session. Which came after a chat session.

I know there has to be something we disagree about. We just can’t find it.

I know what you’re thinking. “Someone in Africa who has pictures of a beautiful young woman went after an old goat in America, got him on the phone, and told him whatever he wanted to hear.”

Sorry to burst your bubble. She talked almost continuously for the first two hours or so. She gave me her testimony. I just listened. And you can’t fake video chat. The lady in the pictures is the lady on video.

She has had a whole bunch of supernatural experiences. She went to a prayer mountain on a 5-day fast (not even water), and she heard God’s voice. She has had visions. Jesus appeared to her in a dream, put a little TV screen in her hand, and showed her how he had looked after her all her life. She healed a paralyzed woman in a wheelchair, and the woman got up and walked. Later, the woman lost her healing and had to wait 10 years to get part of it back.

She likes T.B. Joshua. His church gives people water that has been prayed over (they refuse to sell it), and she dreamed she was spraying it on a giant snake that was on top of a building where a group of people were worshiping God. She said the water turned to fire, and the snake shrank down to a few centimeters. Then she squashed it.

She is militant about supernatural warfare, just like I am. She hates demons, just like I do. Like me, she seeks God’s help to be like powerful Christians of the past, who worked miracles and did all sorts of things to glorify God.

She loves correction and repentance. She hates yoga and astrology. I don’t have to explain anything. So many American women are ignorant about Christianity, even if they’ve been baptized with the Spirit.

It’s like God has a factory where he creates custom-made women for people, and he made this one for me.

We talked and talked about revelations we had received. We talked about preachers we did and did not respect.

While we were texting, I asked if she would mind praying together before our next chat. I said God would let it slide if we didn’t do it a few times, but sooner or later he would lose patience. She said she had been about to ask me the same thing.

The poor woman hung up at two a.m., her time. I had warned her. I said she needed to keep the time in mind, because I was happy to talk to her until morning.

I never got the American “BUT.” You know how that works, if you’re a man.

“I like steak.” “Yes, dear, BUT GMO-free tofu is better for us.”

“I want a Rottweiler.” “I know. BUT a rescue cat with an infected ear is more ethical.”

“I bought lizard boots with silver tips.” “I’m glad you like them, honey, BUT not in public.”

“Christianity is wonderful. It’s my life.” “It is wonderful. BUT Paul had some problems with women, and, of course, we need to correct for toxic masculinity.”

I just want a slave who has sex with me! That’s my problem!

No; I just don’t want to prefer having my liver torn by vultures to having a short conversation with my wife.

One of the great things about marriage, for men, is that we don’t HAVE to do it. You can disagree with me. You can call me an idiot. You can say I’m not a real man like Alan Alda or Chaz Bono. I, on the other hand, can deprive you of my company and my seed forever.

You can sue the daylights out of a man you’ve already married and destroyed. When a wise bachelor sees you and your shoulder-chip coming two blocks off and runs the other way, there isn’t one accursed thing you and your unfertilized eggs can do about it.

Get your BUTs out of my face.

Several years ago, I left Miami. It’s a trashy city full of crass, cruel, materialistic, ignorant people who treat each other badly and don’t know God from Julio Iglesias. I thought I would forget how much I disliked Miami, but the more time I spent in a healthy culture, the more I hated Miami. It looks like it works the same way with women. The more time I spend talking to a woman with a good heart and a heavy dose of the Holy Spirit, the more horrified I am at the pool of women I used to draw from. It makes me want to run up to random men, grab them by the arms, and say, “THIS ISN’T IT. THERE IS A BETTER WAY.”

Fashionable American “men” aren’t prizes, either, though, so it would be a waste of time. They like having someone else to split their Clinique and La Perla budgets with.

No woman is perfect, but there are A women and F women, and there is a spectrum of women in between. If you can get an A, why would you torture yourself with C through F?

The fact that this lady is very beautiful is just icing–very thick icing–on the cake. For men, there are two big problems. The first is women you could never marry in spite of their wonderful personalities, and the second is beautiful women you only think have wonderful personalities because they look good. You always hope to find someone who has a great personality and looks good enough to enjoy touching. A mature man doesn’t ask for physical perfection. You don’t need a 10 to have fun. I was once very happy with a 5. I would be happy with a 7 or even a 6 who cleans up good, as long as the personality was there. It was totally unnecessary for God to connect me with someone whose picture startles me every time I see it.

I feel like I’ve already married this woman. I found her one day ago, and I feel like we’re a couple.

So I’m going to have her Fedexed over here next week, and we’ll get married the day she arrives. Before she’s even out of the box. Then I’ll give her a power of attorney, put all my property in her name, and let her take me skydiving.

No. Why assume a good start means a man is a moron?

I am going to take my time. Anyone can be fooled. I don’t think I’ve been fooled this time, but then that’s what you say when you’ve been fooled. I hope I haven’t fooled her. I hope I’m a good move for her. We’ll pace ourselves. Maybe it’s more accurate to say I’ll pace ourselves.

What I told her was that she should not mistake prudence for lukewarmness.

Am I in love after one day? I am restraining myself and refusing to go there at this time.

I have never seen the blessed life God promises. I have never lived in heaven. I don’t know what a truly good marriage looks like. I don’t know how good life can be. I have known a lot of women who seemed great, but what did I have to compare them to? I knew women who were smart. Women who were kind. Women who were funny. Women who were responsible. I can’t say I’ve known many women who were strongly in line with the Holy Spirit. I’ve known many women who thought they were and were not even close, though.

I don’t know what courting an A is like or how good an A can be. I have to be educated, just as God educated me about living among decent human beings. Can this woman be as good as she seems, or am I letting hope delude me? I can’t answer that in one day.

How good is God willing to be to me? That’s the fundamental question. People always tell me how hard life is, but mine is not. It used to be. The closer I get to God, the easier it is. I have to be careful how much advice I take from people who live in a different reality.

I used to joke about foreign wives. I won’t do that any more. If you’re a man and you’re tired of being clawed at for no reason, you’re dejected because of physical rejection, and you feel you can’t do anything right, maybe you’re not the problem. This country’s women are not in good spiritual health.

That’s all I got. If I buy a ticket to or from Africa, I’ll probably blog it.

Adios, Angry Feminists

It seems like I’m always starting blog posts by saying what a weird day I’m having.

What a weird day I’m having.

Online matchmaking sites are addictive. When someone appealing pops up, it’s rewarding, and when someone who is…the other kind of person…appears, it appeals to morbid curiosity. I can’t resist looking at the sites when I wake up. I did so this morning.

I had a message saying someone had viewed my profile. I went to look at her, expecting to see the aftermath of a tornado in a manure-processing plant. Instead, I saw one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen. For a long time, I stared at her. Then I went to another page. Then I went back and stared.

Great. One more babe who would pass me by.

I looked at her info anyway. Lawyer. God-fearing. Wants to fulfill her purpose for Jesus. A man who prays in tongues would be a plus.

Arrghh. She was exactly what I wanted.

Looking for men younger than I am.

Double arrghh. Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?

Okay. I was used to this. I did not make any effort to contact her. I don’t want to be a creepy old hair-sniffer like certain people who work in the Oval Office. I won’t name a name.

Then a notification popped up. She had sent me a “flirt.”

That had to be wrong.

Of course, I responded. I have faith in God, and highly improbable things happen in his kingdom. I won’t rule anything out. No matter how low my expectations are.

I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I just told her she was very beautiful and that I liked what she had said about God. She said my profile was awesome. “Awesome.” There was more detail than that, but I prefer to focus on “awesome.”

A couple of hours later, we were video-chatting on WhatsApp.

I never use WhatsApp unless my realtor contacts me. I would never, ever use it to talk to someone I met on a matchmaking site, because it’s where all the scammers take people. I would never do that.

Well. Maybe this once.

I hate video chatting, which is why I have never done it before. But she initiated the call, and video was enabled.

What can I say about the call? It was like talking to myself, except I’m not a gorgeous woman. Prayer in tongues is a big deal to her. She understands that it builds faith and brings revelation. She sees the many veiled references to it in the Old Testament. She has no interest in the money gospel, unlike many Africans.

She believes in having a husband, not a wife. Unlike most American women. She didn’t take offense at everything I said. She didn’t condescend. She didn’t try to correct me. This is a bizarre experience for an American man. I told her the mention of the word “submissive” makes most American women angry. I said men who wanted Biblical marriages were commonly accused of wanting slaves or appliances that had sex. She said African women didn’t see themselves that way.

She’s smart. She said law school was easy. It looks like she comes from a smart family. Her cousin is an astrophysicist.

I told her I was amazed by her looks, and she did something no American black woman would ever do. She sent me a photo of herself without a wig. If you don’t know American black women, you don’t understand the wig. I’m pretty sure they wear them into surgery.

A stunning woman without a wig still looks stunning, so I’m not sure what the photo was for.

After a long talk, I gave her my email address, and she sent an email immediately. She told me her full name. I sent an email with my first name. Then I realized I had forgotten to give her my last name, and I sent another email. I said I didn’t want to blow up her inbox. People can be clingy when you first meet them. She said I could send her a million emails a day, 24/7.

I guess things went well, then!

After that, we went our separate ways and agreed to talk tomorrow.

Yeah, right. We’re still texting on WhatsApp. She asked about children! We already have little insider jokes no one else will get.

I am not drawing conclusions or looking at wedding rings online. I am not insane. But I’m not assuming the worst, either. This lady is marvelous. Even if nothing happens, I will still want to know her. People like her are rare. I told her it was as though I had been digging through horse manure and a ruby had fallen out.

Of course, this will absolutely ruin me for anyone who comes later.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to top this post. This is the weird day to end all days.

If this is what it looks like, it has to be the hand of God. I refuse to chase women no matter how old I get, because I believe only God makes matches that work. Maybe this is what it looks like. If not, back to the usual, which is not bad at all.

I Hate Retaking the Same Culinary Real Estate

I can’t figure out what happened to my fried chicken skills. The more I try to improve my chicken, the worse it gets.

Years ago, I wrote a recipe for spicy fried chicken. I wanted something better than Popeye’s. I saved a blog post in which I raved about the results. I said I had succeeded.

Was I wrong? I don’t see how that could happen. How can you be wrong about whether fried chicken is good? I have overestimated the quality of my food from time to time, but not when it comes to things this obvious.

Yesterday I gave chicken another shot. I cut way back on the seasoning I put in the flour, I marinated it in orange juice and hot sauce, and I fried it in peanut oil with a little olive oil added because I had overestimated my peanut oil stash.

I fried the chicken at the correct temperature. I drained it the way Bon Appetit says to, on a wire rack instead of paper towels. The breading came out oil-soaked and heavy.

Now I have about three-fourths of a chicken in the fridge, and I don’t really want to eat it.

I’m looking at my old recipe. I see some things I’m not doing now. First of all, my last batch of chicken was made using eggs to hold the flour on. Paula Deen recommends this. My old recipe and Gordon Ramsay say to use buttermilk and no eggs.

I guess Gordon Ramsay knows a couple of things. You can’t get Michelin stars purely through self-promotion, unless maybe he found a way to bribe Michelin’s anonymous judges. Maybe I should believe him.

I’ve seen Ramsay serve steak sliced, which is idiotic. That concerns me. Foodies are all convinced that steak should be served lukewarm and cut up just like mommy used to do. Ramsay may be a great chef, but he is also a foodie.

I don’t know whether Paula Deen can cook or not. She posted a chicken-frying video, and I watched it. She guessed about a lot of things. Guessed! After cooking professionally for what? Fifty years? And she sells fried chicken in her restaurant. How can she not know everything by now? If I went into her restaurant and trained as a cook for one hour, I would leave knowing the entire process. It’s not like studying for the MCAT’s.

I also made some bad mashed potatoes. I think my mistake was using a ricer. I used to make phenomenal mashed potatoes, and I used a masher and a mixer. People say not to use a mixer, because it makes potatoes gummy. That’s true, if you overdo it. You don’t have to overdo it, though.

Progress is not always progress.

I think I’m going to start buying the smallest amounts of chicken I can find, so I can experiment without wasting money and destroying the kitchen. It’s silly to cut up an entire bird when you’re not sure what will happen. I need to go back and try my old recipe.

My original recipe calls for frying the chicken in beef fat, the way KFC used to. When is America going to get over its ridiculous phobia of fat? Beef fat makes incredible chicken, not to mention French fries. McDonald’s used to dump 50-pound blocks of fat in its fryers. Then the food Nazis put an end to it.

At least they haven’t put an end to meat. They will, though. Count on it. Dairy products will also be canceled. Then cattle will go extinct.

Grocery stores will sell me fat if I ask for it. I don’t know if I want to go through the hassle of buying and rendering it, though. I don’t want to go back to being a hard core cooking hobbyist. I just want to be able to make a few things well.

I am still fooling around with online dating. My perception of the whole business keeps changing.

I already knew there were big differences between black women in Africa and America, and talking to them online has shown me how big the divide is. For one thing, African women are much more likely to admire Republican presidents. Here in the US, the Democrats poisoned blacks with the War on Poverty. It led to the destruction of the black family. It addicted generations to handouts and caused the majority of black Americans to develop a victim mentality based in racism and Marxism. Paradoxically, most American blacks came to view the party that was destroying them as its messiah. It seems things are different in Africa.

One lady I talked to called President Trump “his Excellency,” which I thought was funny. Another one says she liked the bit in my profile where I said the Democratic Party worked for Satan.

My profile makes it very clear I want nothing to do with non-Christians and leftists, and nearly all the women I hear from are from Africa. I have only heard from one American lady who had any interest in prayer in tongues or any knowledge of prophecy. I thought I was hearing from Africans because the sites I was using were full of scammers and poor people desperate to contact Americans, but that is not the case. There are many, many American women on the sites. They view my profile and hit the road. One of the sites tells me when anyone looks me over, so I know what’s happening.

Yesterday I heard from two young ladies who are all about prayer in tongues. One is in Kenya, and one is in Ghana. They are smart, serious women. Most women on dating sites have nearly nothing to say. “I like the beach.” “Animal lover.” “I love life and laughter.” Intelligent girls stand out. The contrast is stark.

Women tend to be ordinary (tautology), and ordinary women believe they need to convince men they agree with them about everything. They hide their own thoughts and feelings until the ring goes on. They don’t like to express their views. They try to find out what you think, and then they parrot it back. The goal isn’t to find someone who is compatible. It’s to put a figurine on a wedding cake and get money and kids.

When a woman says what she thinks or feels, it’s somewhat shocking, because it’s unusual. Generally, you can tell when she’s sincere, because she can back up what she says. A phony can’t do that. Anyone can say, “I’m conservative,” for example, but ask them why, and leftists can’t explain. When one woman proves she’s not playing, it makes you wonder why the rest don’t try it.

It’s not hard to tell when a woman just wants to immigrate. Everything you say is wonderful. You are the most handsome man on earth. All she wants is to sit at your feet and admire you.

I can’t be sure, but it seems like African women are more interested in playing a support role. The very idea is offensive to most American women. In America, you’re not “living your best life” unless both spouses have busy careers and the kids are raised by day-care workers or illegal alien nannies.

One thing that seems to unite black women in Africa and America is their lack of faith in their default dating pool. There is a big cultural difference between the sexes. You can see it reflected in the rates of educational accomplishments. In America, black women get about twice as many college degrees as black men, and I suppose the situation is similar in Africa. Many profiles I look at specifically exclude black men and state that the women are looking for white husbands.

White husbands are generally a mess, but it appears that we could be worse.

I’ve known a fair number of black women. Seems like stories of rape by family members and other black men are very common. The only white woman I know who claims to have been raped is a member of my own family, who makes things up as the mood strikes. I know of three men she has accused falsely. Activists claim well over half of black women have been sexually abused. They also say black women are three times more likely to be murdered, and over 90% of them know their killers. Black women are at a higher risk of being murdered than anyone else in America, and black men are doing nearly all of the killing.

I can see why I’m getting as much attention as I am.

One of the young ladies I talked to yesterday is in a bad situation. Her mother has meningioma, and the young lady has to take care of her alone. This includes things like changing diapers. The young lady is very small and fine-boned. I don’t know how she does it.

She lives in a rural area. I can tell she’s poor. She’s smart, but her English needs work.

I feel bad for her. I don’t think the differences between us would permit anything beyond friendship, but I wish I could put her in a guest house in my yard. She is on a website where useless men are trying to prey on her, her marital opportunities don’t look good at all, and yet she had the courage to contact me and risk rejection.

She hates the money gospel even though she needs money. She knows submission to God is what counts. She says other Christians are brainwashed.

I will have to disappoint her. I don’t look forward to it. Maybe we can stay in touch, and I can be of some help to her.

The other one is also smart, and she knows it. She says she is different from the others and that I will know it when I talk to her. She says she was excited when I said I could tell she was not like most women. I was excited, too. When you do online dating, it’s like you’re sifting through a mountain of rabbit poops, and every so often, you find a pearl.

I wish I could buy a big farm and put all the unappreciated women on it. Isn’t that what Jesus does, though? He lives in a world full of grass, trees, and rivers, and in that world, he has built homes for all of us; for the world’s rejects.

I suppose being an American and talking to women from backward countries is a lot like being God and talking to people on earth. And we will marry up, not down. It makes sense for women from places like Africa to marry men from the US.

The Bible is full of stories of women who married up. Sarah. Rebecca. Rachel. Solomon’s wives. Ruth. Esther. Who married down? Abigail. Her second husband had to kill her first husband, whose name meant “fool” in Hebrew.

Many people think men should marry up. That’s insane. It’s matriarchal. It’s for women who want to be their husbands’ mommies. It’s like going to war and putting a green buck private in charge of a division. Where do people get stupid ideas like that? My mother married down. It ended badly.

The bride of Christ should be a pattern for all other brides. We’re going to Jesus. He’s not coming to us. Forget this place. Like the online profiles say, I am willing to relocate.

These are my views on online dating today. I don’t know how they’ll change by the end of the week.